


Though The Eons May Pass

by alicy_sunberg33



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, I hope, Initiatic Journey, Introstpection, Observations, Sentinels go on a walk, Thedas exploration, a bit of Spin off to my other dragon age fic, dai spoilers, nothing too fancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicy_sunberg33/pseuds/alicy_sunberg33
Summary: Abelas and the Sentinels of the Well of Sorrows are at loss on what they should do, now that they lost their purpose. Abelas is no exception.It’s then the beginning of a long journey, in both body and soul.





	Though The Eons May Pass

**Author's Note:**

> This fic birthed from my lament on the lack of non-romantic Abelas centric fictions. If it’s not out there, then write it yourself! Don’t Get me wrong, I like romance just as much as the next person, but Abelas is much too interesting to not be the focus of his own story. So here it is!
> 
> DISCLAIMER : English is not my mother tongue, so any mistake that you see, I’ll be grateful if you point them out to me, thank you kindly! 
> 
> Disclaimer 2 : I wrote this in the spur of the moment, and so this Prologue lacks maybe specifics and is vague as one prologue can be. I took some freedoms but hopefully I was careful enough that it doesn’t bite me in the ass. I’ll let you be the judge of that. Researches will be more thorough in the next chapters but, in the mean time, I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!

## Prologue : A husk or a home

In contrast to the previous days, the Arbor Wilds were eerily quiet, as they always had been before. People from this “Inquisition” came back only to harvest some the bodies of the Red Army and their own fallen. After a thorough clean up, the paths below the gigantic branches twisting many feet above were cleared out of almost all of their shemlens. The only thing remaining from the battle were the blood tainting the ground that the hungry earth had drank out and it would probably keep this dark red stains for many months. 

He was crouching on the edge of a crumbled wall, hidden by the leaves and the shadows of the night, watching over the last camp of shemlens of the Inquisition. Unlike its other members, those were scouts, spies. They were rather competent and careful in their movements. So he had to be even more watchful about them. It looked like they were packing and ready to leave on the morrow. They had been fairly discreet compared to their fellow shemlens. At last, he thought. Thinking would be easier when all of those fools would be gone. And there was much thinking to be done. 

The one in charge of the camp seemed to be this red-headed woman with elven traits, sharp features that the people called “Charter”. When the last of the packing seemed to be done, they started their watch rounds and silence fell on the sleeping camp. Charter looked up and walked away from the camp, where darkness seemed to be the thickest. None of the watchers asked where she went to this far away from the camp, but they watched carefully towards her general direction. She was now only a few feet away from him. 

The moment she was certain she was alone, she looked up straight to where he was posted. 

“A message from the Inquisitor,” her soft voice said in the darkness, the softest voice possible, as if she was afraid of scaring him by being too loud, her glowing eyes only other indicator that she knew where he was. “The invitation still stands. If you ever want information and shelter in Tasasyl’an Te’las, we will be happy to provide. As an apology. We will not be bothering you any longer.” 

Her butchering of the Elvhen words did not make him laugh. The effort was commendable but trying to sooth him with such words coming from the mouth of an ignorant child made him cringe. At least he understood what place she was referring to. She bowed her head in his direction for a few moments, surprisingly unguarded. He stood up and left and he was rather certain she heard him go, for if she was able to notice him in his stillness, she would very much be able to do so while he moved. She made it clear the Sentinels had nothing to fear from them. 

When they finally left the Wilds, what remained of the Sentinels met in the hall they used for their gatherings and briefings when they woke up. Twenty-seven. Out of of the original two hundreds and seventy that had looked after this temple across time and the destruction of their empire, twenty-seven survived the attack of what had been the most destructive intrusion in their history since the rise of the Veil. Too many died during this invasion. They had been almost wiped out. 

And what had been the most infuriating was that the survivors would have been much less than those numbers if it were not for the “grace” of this mute shemlen, this Inquisitor and her party, that had proceeded through the trials of the temple while the other group of humans was destroying every obstacles in their way to pass through. “This is not my home. Thus if I want to be a host, I must abide by its rules,” was what the bald Elvhen translated for her.

They gathered around, said a few prayers to Mythal and the discussions started with the others looking at him: 

“What do we do now, Abelas?” 

Truthfully what was there left to do? Abelas felt like staying in the temple, though home of still some ancient powers remaining from the Elvhen Empire, was pointless. The Well of Sorrow was gone. There was no use continuing guarding this place. And yet the temple of Mythal looked like the last bastion of Elvhen civilization. It was their home. Their only home. There was nothing in this world left for the Elvhen. Nothing.

“Should we consider... leaving?” , one of the remaining mage said, her voice cold, but hesitation palpable. 

“What is out there, truthfully?” an archer answering bitterly, checking his arrows for what seemed to be the third time. “Where even should we go? For some of us, this is the only place we’ve ever known. And for the rest, the face of the world is just too different.”

“He’s right,” said a young rogue, who did not care to hide his worry. “This is our home, Mythal gave it to us so we could protect it. Does that mean that now the Ir’Abelasan is gone, this place is just a husk? I don’t want to believe it...”

“And yet”, said another young male voice, “whatever should we do staying here? We would be dying slowly, agonizingly and for nothing. There is a world out there...”

“But it’s not ours, da’len,” the archer pointed out. “Do we know where to go? Where would we stay? It changed so much and will we even be able to survive in a world that is resolutely against those who inherited our traits?”

Silence fell. The calm mage, Mefalan, spoke once more.

“In truth we have more choices than we could ever want. I, for one, do not wish to stay here. This place has lived. It will die soon. I do not want to just watch as it happens and be complacent... Abelas, up until now, you are still our leader. What do you wish to do?”

Abelas feared that question more than he cared to admit. He stared away for a second while the others were still quietly discussing their thoughts. 

“I have failed both you and my mission,” he finally said, and their dejected faces showed their embarrassment and shame. “I have no more right to be leader than any of you here... But if you must know, I have not decided yet.”

Silence again and all were looking at him.

“I want to follow this Inquisition,” said a young voice. “I will go to Terasyl’an Tel’as.”

“That sounds unwise, if I may”, said the archer, Valias. “Those humans took away our purpose, the very reason we woke and fought every time there was an intruder. How in the spirits’ name do you think they can help you?”

“Because they helped us, and no intruder before dared to do that, nor to go through the trials,” the young one, Tesanan answered back. “It’s painful to admit but that woman saved me from those red monstrosities. They saved many of us here.”

“And look where that took us now. They helped us only because they needed it, and they took our treasure away...,” another older female voice said with quiet agony. “We failed our mission. We do not deserve the freedom.”

“Where you see freedom, Adelan, I see penance,” Mefalan argued. “I wish to travel this world, there may be yet another way to serve Mythal and I will find one. Our Mistress is clever and I just know, some of her work may have survived the Rise of the Veil.”

“Pah! I’m not interested in going to that wretched place anyway. The very place where the Veil was created?! Blasphemy! For shame, Tesanan! For shame, Mefalan! Do you really think our Lady will thank you for this heresy?! Will you really let that slide, Abelas?!”

“I do not pretend to know what our Lady had in mind, Adelan,” Abelas said coldly. “And none of us can.”

The woman scoffed and retreated in a dark corner of the room to sulk. Abelas felt himself soften in front of that display, from the affection he had for this old croon. But there was still a subject to debate. 

“Those from the Inquisition have left eastward. If some of you have already made your decision to go, we’re you to live now, you might still be able to rejoin them by tonight. I will at least stay in order to prepare and finish the funerary rites for our fallen.”

“One thing is certain however,” someone said with a quiet voice, Leanar, mage and healer, the most quiet and discret one among them, and that was saying a lot, “the existence of this temple will be revealed to the world. And the children of our people, those that are not like us, will want answers. Those who are ready to look for them. Even though they tried to approach us before, knowing that we suffered defeat might embolden them. This temple was always the target of many temptations before. But to those who wish to stay, you may see that it will not be quieter now that what we protect is gone. The shemlens are hungry for knowledge.”

“A fair point,” Abelas admitted, lips thining.

“This has to be the most terrifying,” another one said as they sat up in one of the balconies, looking up to the sky shown by a broken ceiling. “With Ir’Abelasan gone, so did our main source of sustenance... we will now have to hunt just like the servants of Andruil used to do. Eat what surrounds us... And we must find a new purpose. Or wait for death to come for us. The death that is not Uthenera...”

Silence again.

“I will follow this Inquisition while they still are in the area,” the young Tesanan declared. “Apologies, hah’ren,” he added to Abelas, “I do not wish to start in this new world without a guide.”

“You are excused, Tesanan,” Abelas nodded. “It’s a wise decision. But be careful. The shemlens can hide many things behind their actions.” When he nodded, Abelas addressed the rest: “Those of you who wish to go with him, go with haste. They have several hours of distance with you. Make yourselves obvious so they don’t fear you immediately. May the blessing of Mythal be upon you.”

“And with you.” 

Tesanan and four others left the meeting, said their goodbyes and the silence followed the sound of their steps in the hallways for yet a moment longer before fading altogether. 

“I will follow them as well, but later. I will help you with our dead, Abelas,” Mefalan said after a while. 

“How do you plan to make penance, then,” Vallias asked while finishing making another arrow. It used to be easily crafted with magic, but Vallias seemed to have accepted this manual work and enjoyed it. He spent most of his waking moments making new ones when he wasn’t patrolling.

Mefalan looked up, her hood sliding back slightly, showing a scarred, thin faced, the yellow eyes catching the daylight, grey hair slipping through the cloth.

“It’s been a long time since I walked,” she mused with the corner of her lips lifting, showing nostalgia. “I simply wish to walk, until I find a path, or death finds me. I will be content with that. I’ve been sitting here long enough. I think we all did.”

“Did you despise our purpose so much for you to think that now?” Adelan spat. “Foolish girl! Without it, we would be dead now! The remnants of our great civilization!!”

“Was it great truly?” Leanar mused as well. “We saw its downfall. We witnessed it from afar and yet we were aware of the changes. Our Mistress taught us about it. The other Evanuris were being corrupted. Mefalan is right in using the word complacent, isn’t she?”

Never had Leanar spoke so much in such a short amount of time. Adelan was nonplussed by this display before rage made her straighten up, her hood pulled back, showing her white tresses, and her tattoos, those who covered her face the most out of all the sentinels here, showing how long she dedicated her life to Mythal, and wrinkles around her mouth. The aging process touching the mortals before had been catching up with them through their years of service in this alien world.

“How dare you! How dare you all entertain even the mere thought of leaving! For shame, da’len! This is the place we were told to protect! This was our shelter, our home!! For all we know, we are the last bastion of Elvhen civilization! We cannot leave. We must remain!!”

Silence again.

“Ir’Abelasan is gone, hah’ren,” the female rogue next to her, named Palla. “Things will never be the same. We must adapt.”

She looked up to the gathering.

“I will stay here. The shemlens who wish to learn will come, those who will profane the rest of this place, I will kill. Those who will come to learn, I will teach. There is no point in being secretive. I will stay here and die here. Along with Adelan.”

Some people agreed although most among them did not seem to enjoy the idea of teaching the shadow of their people about the old empire. 

“They are wrong in many things,” Leanar smiled bitterly. “So much was lost through the centuries. It will be hard to convince them.”

“Should we allow the humans in as well?” Palla said with a smirk.

“I doubt those walls want to see another human before the end of the next millenium,” Leanar deadpanned. “Let us assume for now that those who do not take the trials will not be worth our time.”

Palla nodded while Adelan behind them left the place altogether, fury in her steps. Abelas watched behind his shoulder as she left. Then turned to those who decided to stay.

“It’s a brave choice. I don’t know if they are worth the time at all, those children are set in their ideas...”

“So are some of us, apparently,” Vallias said pointing at the hallway Adelan took with his new arrow. “I do not like the idea of those shemlens walking around here. Be very careful about this, brethren.”

“What about you then,” Mefalan asked him. “What will you do?”

“Attend the funerary rites for now. Maybe stay here for a while. There are here riches that may still interest the unworthy. Apparently the shemlens that came through the destruction were interested in the offerings. Maybe some of the valuables that are left here could be useful for those who wish to go. If you will not take it, I will protect it for a while at least.”

“Using the offerings of the faithfuls to our Mistress for our survival?” Mefalan chuckled. “Blasphemy!”

“My dear, it’s a good part of what kept that place standing,” Vallias shrugged. “The temple is just being carried around by its servants, you could say. If anything we must use it.”

“I think I can hear the mistress laughing across the ages,” the one in the balcony, Holan, snorted.

Some smiles floated on some faces who still had strength for it. 

Silence again. 

“You have time,” Abelas concluded. “I suspect it will take us around a week to finish gathering our fallen. To those who leave to gather more informations, those who stay will appreciate news from you. Try to come back, if you’re able, to inform us of your progression. To those who decide to stay, again, I advise caution with the... next visitors that will approach the Temple. Do try to stay alive in the mean time.”

“Much obliged,” Palla smiled. “We will take care of our grand-mother. The rest of you can leave with your heart unburdened with worry.”

Mefalan smirked.

“To work,” Abelas then called out, and the meeting was dismissed.

After the funerary rites, the group that decided to leave, -which was a good half of the rest of the survivors- gathered around a map of the old Elvhen empire. They had no clear idea of what was the extent of the geographical changes but it was the only clue they had. Terasyl’an Tel’as and the temple were their only indicators about the true layout of the land. Some of the temples from before the rise of the Veil were marked on the map. A few teams were planning to go to some of those locations and maybe rendezvous at Tarasyl’an Tel’as if they found something or not. 

After the meeting, Abelas stared at the map for a long moment. Mefalan and Vallias joined him in the room, Vallias kept asking her if she would come back here one day, and every time Mefalan called him an idiot with a smile on her face.

“Do I need to come with you, then?”

“I have no need for your protection, lethallan. Do what you must, I will carry on regardless.”

Vallias muttered something about being heartless and Mefalan merely smiled. 

Abelas sighed. Just watching them talk like this was embarrassing.

“So, Abelas. Have you decided on something?”

“Hello to you two. Unfortunately I have not... Choosing a path is more difficult than I thought...”

“It’s difficult for all of us,” Vallias sighed. 

“Did you not decide to stay here?” Mefalan asked pointedly.

“Someone’s making it more difficult by the minute,” he snarked back. “Should I change into a leech and latch on you to make you understand? Or maybe I should raise a memorial stone the day I decide to sleep forever: “Here lies a man who thought he had friends.”

“Must you be so dramatic,” she scoffed.

“For you? I simply must.”

“Now, now, da’len,” laughed the sweet voice of Palla coming from behind them with Leanar in tow. “Do not fight. Something here must be stable at least.”

“I doubt their relationship will be stable anytime soon,” Leanar said with an amused smile.

“I don’t see what you’re talking about,” they both said in perfect synchronization. Their face were both perfectly indifferent. Palla laughed and the sound was beautiful in these dark halls. 

Ir’Abelasan gone, some wept for days. Others suddenly, felt freer . Palla, although she decided to stay, was one of the latter. 

Abelas looked back at the map. Soon silence followed behind him as the four others looked with him.

“The world is not the same...,” Vallias pointed out. “Looking at this map will no help you see how so.”

“I know this. I do not look at it for the sake of trying to imagine the way it changed. I’m simply wondering...”

He looked at the emplacements where the symbols of each Evanuris in varying size marked where their respective temples were. He then remembered that Elvhen man that travelled with the Inquisitor. 

That man was the strangest of them all. Stranger then the black-haired shemlen woman that knew of the Well and took away its power for Mythal knows what. Stranger than the oddly courteous and murdering mute woman who carried the power of the Elvhenan in her left hand. Stranger than all the shemlens that came to the temple. Because he most definitely wasn’t one. No. The way he talked, his noble accent he had tried to hide, his words. His magic that ringed familiar even through the filter of the reality of this world. 

_“There are other places, my friend, other duties. Your people yet linger.”_

_“Elvhen such as you?”_

_“Yes. Elvhen such as I.”_

It had struck him. Then his words of parting.

_“I hope you will find a path that allows you to find another name.”_

Another name, huh...

He sounded like he had answers. About both this world and the old one. About other survivors whereabouts. 

Survivors. 

What if other temples had survived the fall?

“What?” he heard behind him.

He realized he said those words out loud. 

“What if other temples of the old masters had survived the fall of the empire?” he repeated with a sigh at his own carelessness. “What if there were more of us?”

Silence. They all looked at the map. 

“I thought about that,” Mefalan admitted slowly. “Do you wish to look for them?”

There was a pause during which Abelas thought. They all waited patiently.

“You know, Mefalan,” he said looking back at her, “I think I do.”

“What for?” 

“To find survivors, obviously.”

“You wish to go to other temples?” Palla asked, skeptical. “The temples dedicated to those who slew our mistress? I doubt you will receive a warm welcome, should you even find them, and just entertaining this idea personally gives me shivers...”

“Going out into the unknown isn’t devoid of risk, I’m well aware. However there is little left of what birthed the conflicts between our houses. Finding survivors seems more of a priority to me than our old grudges... And with the masters gone, it seems that we must now consider advancing one step at a time. On our own.”

“Abelas,” Vallias asked. “Will you not try to exact revenge, if you find survivors of the other temples?” 

He sighed. The thought had crossed his mind. But only during the few first centuries after the fall of Mythal.

“Mythal was fierce but generous with her servants. I think we knew more about what was going on than most of the servants of the other Evanuris. We could relay our thoughts and doubts to her and she would explain if she deemed it necessary for us to understand. They only listened and obeyed...”

“And they acted upon those orders like the sheep they were,” Leannar bitterly said. 

“Can we blame them?” Palla sighed. “I feel we are beating around the bush here. This is not the first time we had this conversation. We all know how it finishes.”

Silence again. Mefalan broke it. 

“I see your point, Abelas. I am not especially interested in finding survivors from other temples. Our old petty quarrels are not something I wish to burden myself with. However, I’d be glad to have another companion join me on my way to Tarasyl’an Tel’as.”

Abelas nodded gratefully. He would like to try and meet this Elvhen man of the Inquisition. He also wanted to see if he could meet with the woman who took the Ir’Abelasan. 

Then he saw behind her the thin silhouette of Adelan. It appeared she had watched the whole exchange. From the light of the torches he saw the shadows of her expression. It was dark, almost resigned. Slowly, she turned her back to them and walked away.

Abelas started to go after her when Leannar stopped him by taking his arm and shaking his head. 

“Don’t. Give her some time. Let’s help you prepare a plan. Go when you’re ready.”

Abelas hesitated then nodded. 

The five of them talked about which temple he should check out. Maybe he could reconvene with the teams that were going other ways than to Terasyl’an Tel’as. He told them about the Elvhen man accompanying the Inquisitor’s party. They were all intrigued and Mefalan manifested her enthusiasm by saying flatly:

“Let’s interrogate him.”

Vallias had laughed, Leannar rolled his eyes and Palla was giggling. Abelas hid his smile in his hood. He was going to miss them.

After this Abelas went to find Adelan. 

She avoided and ignored the new commotion like the plague. Abelas travelled the maze and deserted corridors he knew by heart and went looking for her. As she was nowhere to be found, he climbed up the broken ceilings and the stairs he had formed a few days prior, accessing the clearing and the chamber of what was once the Well of Sorrow. He found her kneeling in front of the remains of the Well. It was dry as if there had never been any water in it in the first place. The Eluvian, still standing, was broken beyond measures, glass pieces still lying everywhere in the room. Adelan was in the middle of the mess, the few blood stains on the floor and the cuts on her bare feet showed she walked here without caring about her own skin, hands joined on her lap, head low. He could hear the faintest whisper of her prayer. He guessed she had been here since she left their general meeting, save for when she came to see him in the map room, and understood why all the meals that were left in her quarters had not been touched.

He sighed. He did not appreciate seeing the eldest of their numbers disregarding her health in such a way. 

“Adelan.”

No answer. But the whispering stopped. Only bitter silence. 

“I’m sorry you had to learn my decision like this, but nonetheless, I have come to say farewell. We’re leaving tomorrow at dawn.” 

Silence still. Abelas sighed again and went to sit next to her on a nearby fallen boulder, and he stared at the empty well. 

“You should not be the one to pray for forgiveness...,” he said softly. “I alone should carry that weight.”

“It doesn’t look like you are ready to do so, boy,” her hoarse voice reproached. “And why should you be alone to carry it, when we all chose here to be Sentinels? Myself long before your time.”

Abelas smiles slightly. Silence fell again. The prayer was finished but the matriarch still knelt before the Eluvian, eyes closed, meditative. He took it as her allowing him to talk.

“I am sorry, hah’ren... I feel I slighted you more than any other here...”

“If you did slight anyone, it is no one but the Mistress. This was her last place of worship. The last piece we had left of her...”

“I plan on apologizing.”

“How in the name of all that is sacred are you going to do that?”

“As Mefalan said, I will also find a new way to serve her. I cannot do so if I stay here.”

“That is not how it works. You and I were chosen. We do not choose our calling.”

“Maybe not before. But the situation has changed, Adelan. The vows we took have less value than the memories of our world.”

He looked up at her:

“Come with us, hah’ren. Guide us like you always did.”

Adelan looked up at the Eluvian, still kneeling. He was surprised by the full amount of sadness, and pride he saw in her eyes.

“Abelas. You never needed me to guide you. As I am now, I will be of no use to you youngsters... Forget your worry and go. I shall be fine. I... wish to die here. I do not want to die far from her.”

Abelas knelt next to her and took one of her hand resting flatly on her thighs in his. 

“Thank you for your service, Adelan. The Lady would be grateful.”

Finally she looked at him, her eyes and even her deeply tattooed face were kind. She scoffed and squeezed his hand back.

“Who are we to assume what is in our Lady’s mind, hm?”

He chuckled softly. Then Abelas and Adelan hugged. 

“Take care on the way, dear boy. Watch over them. And come back when you can. Survive, da’len.”

“You too, hah’ren.”

In the morning, those who decided to stay came to see off those who decided to leave. After many embraces, and many farewells, those who left split up and Abelas‘ small team left eastward, following the path of the rising sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Your thoughts and suggestions on this project are welcome!


End file.
